


Vestigium

by laurpas



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Lyrium, M/M, Sex, Tevinter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurpas/pseuds/laurpas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching through Fenris' mansion Anders finds a book on lyrium warriors- including a section that entails the removal of lyrium markings... </p><p>As with anything else I do this is loosely based on a kmeme prompt I read a loooong time ago. Expect angst, Fenris torn between wanting the markings removed and unsure of where that will leave him afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the "tevene" is just english to latin i put through google translate. i don't speak latin outside of the years of medical terminology i was forced to endure and so for those who do... i am sorry. so. so sorry.

  The book was bound in brown leather, worn looking and soft like butter in the way that old and well-used leather got. It was not terribly large, Anders had certainly seen larger texts in his time, especially when he had had access to the library at Kinloch Hold, and compared to the rest of the books was actually rather small. 

  It sat, innocuous looking enough, in one of the bookshelves in the one of the front rooms of Fenris’ mansion that he rarely went into. And even if he had bothered to explore these parts Anders doubted that Fenris would have thought to pick it up- Even with the ability to read a book that was undoubtedly about magic or Tevinter or both had have little pull for him. 

  By the time that Anders got to it, and even for him it had not been the first book he’d pulled from the shelves,  it was caked in a layer of dust that was disturbingly tall and it was with no small amount of coughing and hacking that he managed to clean it off. Rubbing at the cover with his sleeve, which now have a thin strip of grey grime of it, he looked down at the worn lettering and frowned. 

  His Tevene was a little rusty at the best of times- Language never having been one of his strong suits despite the amount of time he spent talking- but when he finally read the title he realized that he could not simply ask Fenris to translate it for him as he usually would. Before him in Tevene was written:

 

_ De Medicamentis Lyrium et Quantum ad Corpus _

 

  Upstairs the other man slept, or at least Anders believed he did. It was not in Fenris’ nature to rise early in the day like Anders did, and because of this he was alone in one of the many rooms of Fenris’ manse, examining and cataloguing the library that had been left behind by the former occupants.  

  It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to ask Fenris if he could search through the books littered throughout his home, fueled mostly by the certainty that he would be denied or that Fenris would find his actions suspicious. As it happened Fenris didn’t mind overly much- Though he had given Anders a considering look when he had asked.  

  And now Anders sat cross-legged on the floor staring at the book sitting in his lap. (Maker, he was getting too old to sit like this anymore, and wouldn’t have, but most of the seats on the plush chairs had been rotted out and Fenris had never bothered to replace any of them.)  

_ Corpus.  _ Body. 

_ Lyrium.  _ Well- That was obvious.

  His mouth moved silently as he worked out the other words, trying to fit them in his head like a particularly difficult puzzle. The grammar itself was strange- Almost… Old sounding, not much like the Tevene he had learned when he was young. 

  “Lyrium and its… Its Applications… And the Body?” 

  He frowned and moved his hand over the edge of the cover, about to flip it open before stopping himself. Something about this particular tome made him feel uneasy- As if, once having been opened, the information within the pages could never be contained again.

  “It’s just a silly book, what’s the worst that could be in it?” He asked himself this, and his words sounded a little hollow in the silence of the room.

  It  _ was _ a book about magic, from Tevinter, but Anders was trying to be optimistic. Maker, he thought, let this not be yet  _ another  _ treatise on blood magic. 

  He began to flip through the pages, idly thumbing through them, until he landed on a page with an illustration and stopped, his blood running cold. 

 

_ Fig. IV: Lyrium vestigium en corpore _

 

  This was basic enough for him to translate, ( _ “Lyrium trace… No… Marking? Marking. Lyrium Marking on a… Body?” _ ) if the image presented hadn’t been clear enough. On the page before him, lined in worn ink, was the body of a person with.... Designs drawn onto their form. Designs that, according to the text, would faintly glow from the lyrium imbedded within them. 

  “Fuck,” he said, his chest suddenly constricting. He’d found a book about lyrium markings. A fucking  _ guidebook  _ if the words that accompanied the picture were anything to go on.  

  His fingers, shaking slightly, traced slightly over the markings on the page which were at once familiar and strange. There were three dots drawn on this person’s forehead, and the lines branched on their body looked much like on Fenris’, far too much for his own comfort, though these particular designs did not flow quite as organically over the body. 

  More illustrations followed and Anders found himself becoming nauseous. Illustrations about… Embedding the lyrium. About restraint devices and- 

  “What has you so absorbed?”

  Anders jumped, letting out a startled curse at the sound of Fenris behind him. Furtively he turned, trying to hide the book with his body, to stare at his lover who was casually leaning against the doorframe of the room Anders was in, one black eyebrow raised. 

  He had a little smile on his face, just the curl of his lip, a look that even Anders rarely saw, but it quickly faded when Anders did not move or immediately respond. 

  “Anders?” He moved to stand up straight, the set of his shoulders suddenly tense and Anders regretted not being able to think or move faster. 

  “It’s- It’s nothing really- You just startled me, is all.” He moved quickly, standing and trying to hide the book behind his back, hoping to perhaps shove it back onto the bookshelf where Fenris would not bother it. His little display, as ineffective as it was, did not stop Fenris from approaching him, now with a deep frown set on his face.

  “What did you find?”

  “I- I don’t know, really, nothing, I think. Just… Wait, Fenris-”

  He moved as Fenris did, trying to keep the elf from reaching behind him and finding the book, only for Fenris to fix him with a glare.

  “ _ Mage _ ,”

  “Mage again, is it?” Anders tried to keep a joking tone, even as he could see how furious Fenris was getting. “I thought we’d gotten past all of that.” 

  “Whatever it is you are hiding belongs to me. Now  _ give  _ it to me.”

  Anders met his eyes, his own wide and pleading. “Fenris,” he breathed, “Please, love, I really don’t think you want to see this.” 

  This seemed to stop Fenris for a moment as he stood back, giving Anders a searching gaze. What was it, the elf wondered, that had Anders looking this way? Did he truly wish to know, or would it be better not to?

  No, he did want to remain ignorant. Besides, he knew that this house contained its own bloody history. It had, after all, at one point been Danarius’. And though, for this reason, he had generally avoided exploring it, fearing what he might find, he could not now. Finally his eyes sharpened and although he did not glare at Anders his gaze, and tone, brooked no arguments.. 

  “I think I would like to decide that for myself.”

  Closing his eyes Anders sighed and held the book out for the elf to take, unable to resist muttering, “Just know I tried to stop you…”

  Fenris grasped the book impatiently and then there was a long, long silence. Anders, against his better judgement, opened his eyes to see Fenris staring down at the book, clenching it tightly between his fingers. 

  “A Treatise on Lyrium and its Applications as it Relates to the Body.” His tone was neutral, but he did not look up at Anders as he asked, “This is… A book on healing?” He spoke the words, though they both knew better. Even had this book not come from Tevinter (there had been good mages, Fenris tried to remind himself, even in that shithole) it had belonged to Danarius. What use would he have had for a medical text?

  “No, not exactly. At least as far as I can tell. Though my arcanum is… Is rusty, at best.”

  Fenris opened the cover and Anders winced, watching him as he began to carefully move through the pages. 

  “This… Is…” 

  Anders nodded, watching Fenris carefully. He had in all honesty expected Fenris to explode by now, but instead he just kept flipping, gaze disturbingly impassive. 

  Finally he closed the book, the snap of the cover shutting far too loud in the stillness of the room around them. For a long moment he was silent, as if in contemplation before finally speaking. 

  “I usually practice my swordplay in the mornings. Please, excuse me.” Without looking up at Anders he turned and then moved out of the room. And if he seemed to be trembling slightly, well, Anders would never had told a soul.

  After a moment of clenching and unclenching his fists Anders turned and looked back at the book which Fenris had carefully set down on a dusty side-table. He scowled and picked it up before hurling it at the wall and grunting with all of the force and hurt he wished he could have inflicted on the person who wrote it, on Danarius, on all of the people who had ever hurt Fenris.

  It hit the wall and then fell down with a loud, and ultimately unsatisfying, clunk onto the floor. It would never be enough, he thought glumly to himself. He could drown them both in blood, and still it would not be enough to make up for what his love had been forced to endure.   

   He almost turned away in order to follow after Fenris when he realized that the pages had flipped to one last illustration, towards the end of the book. He knew that he should have left it- Or at least burned the damn thing- but instead curiosity drew him, closer, and closer, until he had picked up the book and began reading.

 

_ Fig. XC. Remotio de vestigium _

 

  “Removal of markings,” Anders whispered to himself, continuing to translate as he read, brows deeply furrowed,, “The permanent excision of lyrium is a difficult procedure but with a skilled and knowledgeable hand may be accomplished… Permanently…”

  For the second time that day he dropped the book and then, finally, moved far, far away from it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, as much as I love the trope of "Fenris' brands always hurt, except for when ~Anders~ touches him" (and I do love it, I seriously do) I've always wanted to explore what it would be like if that were not the case. 
> 
> I do headcanon that Fenris' experiences much of the same things that people with chronic pain do because of his markings and this fic will probably deal with some of that stuff, especially as it relates to removing the markings. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this chapter, and again, thank you so much for reading, kudosing, and commenting.

  Against his better judgement, Anders later went back to retrieve the book. It drew him, and though he could detect no unusual magic attached to it the mage could also not discount that there might be something dangerous inside of it. 

_ More dangerous than a guide on how to forcibly imbed lyrium into someone’s flesh?  _

  If he had not seen that last page he might have been able to let it be. He certainly had no wish to look further into the details of what Fenris had suffered, and he knew that the elf likely would not have appreciated it. But to remove the markings…

  He swallowed heavily as he moved through Hightown, the book held loosely under his arm. It was late night now, safe (or as safe as Anders was likely to be in Hightown with templars and guardsmen roaming about) for him to make his way home. Neither he nor Fenris had spoken of what they had found, and for now Anders was content to let it be. Besides, for all he knew the book would end up being completely useless- Fenris was the only lyrium warrior that Anders had ever heard of- The only one that had seemed to survive.

  The thought sent a shiver through him and he pulled his coat around him tighter as he began his descent into Darktown. This time of the year it was much colder than the rest of Kirkwall and the air had an unsettling, clammy feeling to it. No matter how clean he was upon leaving Fenris’ mansion (and he always took advantage of the relative privacy to bathe) by the time he made it to his clinic he would be covered in dust and cold sweat. 

  As he walked people acknowledged him- Let it never be said that the people of Darktown did not recognize their healer. But though he returned their smiles and greetings he felt his mind drifting away to the problem that currently lay under his arm.

  He had not told Fenris about the last illustration in the book, about the fact that there might be a way to remove the lyrium that lived under his skin. He had not wanted to give him false hope and he was also worried about what such a procedure entailed. 

_ Blood magic? Undoubtedly. Even to heal him it would be unjust to use it.  _ Briefly Anders wondered if Fenris would agree and then quickly shook his head. Fenris would never approve of the use of blood magic. Not even to take away the pain that plagued him constantly.

  It’d been difficult at first, growing close to him. There were the obvious reasons- Fenris’ distrust of mages and particularly of Anders and his spirit. The animosity that had existed between them, the way that every conversation morphed into an argument, whether either man had intended it or not. The cutting words and, Andraste’s tits, had Fenris said some awful things to him. And  _ Maker _ , the things that Anders had said to Fenris, often without provocation.  

  Somewhere along the line it had slowly begun to change, in the way that relationships often did, so subtle that neither man noticed until it was too late. As if such a fate, loving each other, could have been undesirable. 

  And yet… There had been complications.  _ Always  _ there were complications. 

  Sighing Anders set the book on his desk and then wandered over to the shoddy little table he used to prepare his poultices and potions, lost in thought and memory as his hands began to work from muscle memory crushing herbs. 

 

* * *

  
  


  Fenris had reclined on the bed, obviously tense. They’d exchanged kisses before- Sometimes passionate, and sometimes gentle. Often angry, especially when one wanted to shut the other up. But tonight they had finally agreed to have sex. Or rather, Fenris had grabbed Anders, pinning him against the wall, and then muttering something vaguely flirtatious.  

  Anders had been quite delighted about this turn of events but upon seeing his partner had stopped, eyes narrowing, trying to determine what the problem was. He hadn’t even moved onto the bed or undressed, instead standing at the side of it and watching the elf, waiting for him to say something.

  Silence had greeted him and finally Anders had been forced to break it.

  “We don’t have to you know,” he said, trying to bury the disappointment. Still, it was the right thing to do. If Fenris was uncomfortable… 

  “I would- I want to.” Which was why Fenris couldn’t seem to lift his eyes up to meet Anders’ gaze.

  “...Right.” Hesitantly Anders sat on the bed, looking at Fenris, eyes roaming over him. Still the elf did not say anything and Anders frowned. “Now, we can sit here in silence or you can tell me what the problem is and we can try to figure out a way around it.”

  For a long time Fenris was silent and Anders feared that he would not talk to him. 

  “It… Hurts. The markings.” Fenris shifted, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking away. “It’s not terrible but- It is rarely comfortable, either.”

  “I had realized-” But clearly Anders had not fully understood and as he began to comprehend the implications of Fenris’ words he stopped speaking. He had known that Fenris did not like other people touching him but he had thought… He had thought with him it would be different, somehow. How naive of him. ( _ Stupid man, nearing forty and still believing that love could heal things it couldn’t even touch. _ ) “It hurts- Always?”

  “Not when I am drunk. But otherwise- Yes. When I am alone they do not hurt as much and the… Discomfort is manageable. But when I am around magic or when I activate them…”

  Anders had healed Fenris enough to recognize the signs of chronic pain in him. The inflammation, the wearing of his muscles and bones. The fatigue that wrapped so cleverly around his frayed nerves. And he, just as everyone else had, had recognized that using the markings clearly cost Fenris something. He just hadn’t expected it to filter into  _ this  _ aspect of his life. 

  Of course it had- Of course it bloody had to ruin this too.

  Sighing he set his hands flat on the bed and pushed forward slightly, mouth pinched downwards into a frown. There had to be some way they could deal with this.

  “And if I am… Careful with you?” Just the words coming out of his mouth made him cringe. He didn’t want to be careful with Fenris. He wanted to touch him, to taste him. Wanted to press his body against the other mans, to entangle their limbs and to- To do all of the other things normal people did when they fucked.

  “I- It will not be enough to distract. Though I would ask that you not use magic at all.”

  This seemed to anger Anders and briefly, Fenris pulled away. He knew that this was not exactly the kind of bed talk a partner wanted, but Isabela had advised him to be honest. 

  “No- I will not have sex with someone merely ‘tolerating’ it. That’s not- Maker, do you really think that little of me?”

  “No, I just-” it was his turn to grow angry and he barely restrained himself from raising his voice to the other man. “Kaffas, I wasn’t talking about ‘just tolerating’ relations with you. I was merely…”

  “And how can you expect me to believe that- If you’re in pain how can you possibly-”

  “Just  _ listen  _ to me, mage.”

  Anders had finally quieted, crossing his arms in front of his chest, much as his would-be lover had, and stared at him expectantly. 

  “I… I am always in pain. So much that I often do not notice it.” That was a lie, of course- Sometimes he did not notice smaller pains because of his markings, but the ache never truly left him, not when he was sober anyway. “And I can still enjoy- This, with you. You must at least let me  _ try _ .”

  After a few moments of thinking Anders finally sighed and then nodded. “Fine- But if it hurts too much-”

  “I will tell you,” Fenris had replied, finally giving him a small smile. Anders had been forced to trust him but, in time, it had not become much of a problem either. 

 

* * *

 

 

  “Oh Anders~” Hawke sauntered into his clinic, smiling cheerily at several of the patients reclining and at Lirene who was busy rolling bandages up to use later. “I have need of some-”

  Hawke heard the sound of swearing and, chuckling slightly, moved towards the little room that Anders kept, if a small space cut off by drapes could really be called a room. They found Anders hunched over a desk, several books open in front of them, cursing and scribbling away at something.

  “Anders dear, whatever is the matter?”

  Anders swore and then jumped slightly when Hawke entered the room, having been deep in concentration. Still, he could never remain angry around Hawke long and so, sighing, turned to his friend.

  “Yes, Hawke? What do you need?”

  “I came down here to see if you didn’t wish to accompany me to a trip on Sundermount but if you’re too busy…” Hawke was smiling, that easy going smile they always wore on their face, but it faltered slightly as they leaned forward to get a look at what was on Anders’ desk. “Maker Anders, that’s an awful lot of Tevene to have on one’s desk.”

  “Yes well- I am… Working on a project.”

  Hawke raised one thick black brow and, sighing, Anders continued, “I… I can tell you. But you have to promise not to tell Fenris about- Any of this. Understand?”

  Their other eyebrow rose up to join the other one and they asked, tone mocking, “What, trouble in paradise?”

  “Hawke…” It was really a bad sign if  _ Anders  _ was admonishing them for inappropriate humor, and so Hawke silenced themselves, waiting for Anders to go on.

  It seemed to take a long time for the man to collect himself and while Hawke was not an overly patient person, for their friends they could wait. 

  “I… May or may not have found a way to remove Fenris’ lyrium markings.”

  “What- Blondie?” From behind Hawke peeked Anders’ favorite dwarf, along with Merrill, and internally Anders groaned. He was comfortable telling Hawke these things but not the rest of the group- Not yet, anyway.

  “No-” He started, but he was immediately surrounded by the three of them, all of them giving him probing looks. 

  “Please-” he started but Hawke frowned and finally Anders capitulated. “It’s- Really… I found a book in Fenris’ mansion. A book about lyrium warriors.”

  Even Hawke, who did not seem affected by much, frowned at this, but they allowed Anders to continue. 

  “And I- Well- I found a section about removing them, I just…” He sighed and threw up his hands. “I don’t even know if it’s possible- Of fucking course the book recommends blood magic to do it,” he winced and continued when Hawke shot him a look, “Sorry Merrill.”

  “Oh, you’re alright Anders,” Merrill replied with a small smile.

  “Right. Well- Fenris would never allow it, even to remove his markings and I’m not- I haven’t discussed this with him yet so please…”

  Hawke sighed and shook their head, “Anders… We’ll keep your secret, of course, but… He should know. Doesn’t he deserve it?”

  “Yes, yes- He deserves it and-”  _ So much, he deserves so much more…  _ “But I can’t give him false hope if I’m not able to do this. And I also don’t know what would happen to him afterwards. There’s information about it in the texts, but I haven’t fully translated it yet.”

  “You know, you do have a translator- One you have rather easy access to,” Varric replied, a deep frown on his face.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Anders replied with a scowl. “I… I know.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence then as the rest of Hawke’s party absorbed what they had learned. 

  “Hawke,” Anders started, breaking everyone else out of their stupor, “If I can make heads or tails of this, if I can figure out what to do, if I  _ think  _ I can do this and if Fenris even agrees you’ll help me, won’t you?”

  “Anything Anders,” they replied, “Both you and Fenris are my friends, and of course I’ll help you.”

  “I’ll help too- And I promise I won’t use blood magic, not even a little,” Merrill offered and though Anders didn’t think Fenris wanted the witch anywhere near him he appreciated it all the same. 

  “I can’t offer much in the way of magical expertise but you need any herbs or any special equipment, I can get it for you.” It was Varric’s turn to offer aide now, and he did so with a smile.

  Unbidden, tears came to Anders’ eyes and he quickly blinked them back. To have such unerring support still felt a little overwhelming at times to a man who had spent most of his spent depending entirely on himself. His heart swelled for Fenris as well, that they had found such dedicated friends. 

  More than once the elf had lamented how alone he was, but in truth he was not. He had Hawke and their merry band of misfits and he, especially, had Anders.

  Finally the mage looked back up at Hawke, giving them a misty smile. “So, what was it you needed help with?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm, I'm hoping this chapter doesn't feel too much like the last one. In any case, I wanted a chapter where Fenris finds out everything to kind of start him and Anders on their journey, so to speak.

  He rose with a groan, stretching and feeling the soreness that never truly left him. There were days that it was worse than others, after a battle or during the winter tended to be the worst, but on this particular day he felt relatively good.

  As he sighed and sat up, beginning almost automatically to move and stretch his body as he’d long ago been taught, he allowed his mind to wander. Briefly he thought on the past few missions that he had accompanied Hawke on and on the last Wicked Grace night which had ended with Dog winning yet again. He thought of Anders, of course, his mouth curling into a small smile only for it to fade when he thought of how distant he’d been lately.

  Fenris had never hoped for much in their relationship- They were two very different men, both with issues that could have, and frankly should have, kept them apart. Somehow they had made something of it, and now he was invested enough to be worried about the fact that it’d been days since he had last seen his lover. And that, the last time he had, he’d been sallow and tired looking.

  He knew enough to know that that book they had found had something to do with it, though what he could not say. He hadn’t seen it since (not that he had gone looking for it, exactly,) but he had assumed that Anders would put it out of his mind just as Fenris had been trying to do.

  Briefly he felt something uncurl in his gut, dark and acidic and he had to bite his lip to keep from scowling. He knew this feeling well- This rage that had never quite left him, this reminder of the inescapability of his past. It had gotten better over the years, no longer so all-consuming, but it remained and the fact was that Fenris had only to reach a little before he found the anger, bright and hot and terrible as it ever was.

  This morning he decided to swallow it down, to breath deeply and try to exhale it. He stretched and forced his mind to wander past the snag it had gotten caught in, until he was finally thinking on better things.

  He would visit Anders today and see what the matter was. He would talk to him, and things would be good. He would pick up some groceries from the market, and he would try to forget the book. Or, perhaps he would go to the market first and pick something up for Anders- Yes, surely that would help resolve whatever was the matter between them.

  His plan of action for the morning decided, Fenris rose in order to wash and dress and start the day.

 

* * *

 

 

  The lantern was lit, unsurprising since it was the middle of the morning, and Fenris could only hope that Anders was not yet swamped with patients. He would not begrudge him for it, but he had hoped for some time alone with him.

  The clinic, as it turned out, was very sparsely populated. There was a woman praying in the corner and two people who appeared to be hovering over a body with a drape pulled over it, but otherwise it was empty. Fenris moved past them, none of them seeming to notice him, making a beeline for the little sectioned off area where he thought he could find the healer.

  He did as, it turned out. The man was bent over his desk, practically hidden behind the piles of books there, nose deep into some tome. For a minute Fenris did not say anything, merely watching him, until he realized how many of the books were in Tevene.

  “Anders?” he felt a strange sense of deja vu wash over him, only to feel it intensify when Anders looked up and turned pale.

  “Fenris?” His voice squeaked a little on second syllable and sounding a little breathless he asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Absently Fenris’ eyes wandered over the spines of the books stacked haphazardly on the desk ( _they were both so cluttered, a strange commonality he had found with the mage_ ) reading them, realization slowly beginning to dawn on him, only for it to be swiftly followed by confusion. There were several tomes about lyrium and the manipulation of it, and one specifically about elvhen anatomy and physiology. And then, resting on top of all of the others, the book they had found that had started this all.

   _De Medicamentis Lyrium et Quantum ad Corpus_

“Why?” He asked, throat feeling parched. He felt betrayed, although why he could not exactly say. Perhaps it was because he had thought that Anders had understood- That he’d known, like Fenris, that some things were better forgotten, unspoken of. The acid was back, in the back of his throat, flowing freely through his veins as he turned back to the mage. “ _Why?_ ”

  “Fenris, love, please listen to me-”

  Fenris dropped the bag of food he had brought, unable to keep himself from balling his hands into fists. “Could you not contain your curiosity? Is my agony so _fascinating_ to you?” He feel his brands ache and throb, almost as if they knew that he was speaking about them, and it only riled him up more. “Kaffas, _could you not have just asked me_?”

  He knew it made him a weak man, but he also knew, had the mage had any questions, he would have answered all of them.

  Anders’ eyes had gone dark, the way they did when he angry, but instead of immediately replying he seemed to be thinking over what he wanted to say, chewing on his lower lip. Fenris could not help but wonder if he was arguing with his spirit and only barely avoided insulting him about that as well.

  “This is… Not at all the way I wanted to have this conversation, please believe me.” He rose but did not try to approach Fenris, seeming to sense what a bad idea it was. “But I… I’ll just say it: I think I may be able to remove your markings.”

  He said the words, but it took a few seconds for Fenris to feel their impact, for the anger to leech away, leaving him feeling light-headed and frazzled.

  “Excuse me?”

  “There was… A section in the back of the book. I accidentally came across it when I, er, threw the book at the wall. It was about removing the markings and I thought- Well- I could not _stop_ thinking about it.” Anders had begun to pace, as was his habit, and all Fenris could do was watch as he continued to speak. “What was done to you was terrible- A great, _great_ injustice. And I know that you still suffer because of the markings- Obviously, I mean we…”

  He swallowed and then declined to bring up the way that Fenris’ marking and pain had affected their more intimate moments together. It wasn’t fair, and Anders knew that the elf already felt far too guilty over it.

  “But I didn’t want to give you false hope if I couldn’t do it, and I mean, if _I_ couldn’t do it what hope would we have for finding someone else?” He stated it for the fact that he, and Fenris, knew it to be. Anders was a healer of incomparable skill and the only other mages who _might_ be at his level were likely all in Tevinter where powerful magic was not heavily suppressed.

  “And so I… I started researching it. Trying to see if I could make it work. If I could…” He finally spared a glance Fenris’ way, “help you.” He stopped pacing, though still he kept his distance, and half-whispered, “I would give anything to take that pain from you. To undo what that sick-” he stopped, swallowing heavily, “What they did to you. But I had to be sure that I was capable of it first.”

  Suddenly Fenris rather wished that he had a chair beneath him- He didn’t know how he had remained standing through all of that either. There was so much going on inside his head, so many conflicting emotions, and when Anders finally pulled him, gently, into a chair, he collapsed onto it.

  “Fenris?” the voice was soft, far away. “Fenris-” Anders was kneeling before him holding his head in his hands and looking at him with worried eyes. “Please, talk to me.”

  It took him a long moment, but finally Fenris said, “This is simply… A lot to take in.” He promptly shut his mouth again and then looked downward. He noticed his arms resting comfortably on his knees, partially exposed because of the way his armor was built. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never seen his arms free of the markings and he wondered what they would look like. Just plain brown, he imagined, and yet…

  His mind was already working out the possibilities, imagining- it seemed that the years with Hawke and their band of followers had predisposed him to hope.

  He thought of wandering through Lowtown, no one sparing him a second glance or wincing when they looked at him.

  Anders’ hands trailing over him, no more pain ( _finally, able to touch him the way he wanted, to press without it hurting,_ ).

  Waking up in the morning, and only aching because he drank too much the night before.

  Drinking for pleasure and enjoyment, rather than just to get drunk in the hopes that he might spend a few hours blissfully pain free.

  Suddenly he looked up at Anders who had not once stopped watching him. “Can you do it? Could you- Could you remove them?”

  He expected Anders to say no, to feel the hope inside of him crushed before it could grow, and  suddenly his eyes become sore and itchy. _Please_ , he thought, and he hated how desperate he felt.

  “Yes. I could- Or at least, I’m pretty confident I can,” nervously the mage laughed as he continued, “I haven’t done this before, er, obviously. But I’m reasonably certain I could. I- There are other things I should discuss with you, however. Things that I’ve come across in my readings that are concerning.”

   _Maker_ , Fenris could not help but think bitterly, it was always one thing or another, wasn’t it?

  “I can handle it,” he said, “I survived the ritual that put these markings in me- I will survive having them removed.”

  “There is that,” Anders nodded to him, “But there is also…” He shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “Fenris, you know that you are almost unnaturally strong for an elf, do you not?”

  This caught him off-guard, for he had never considered it strange that he was able to fight like other two-handed warriors. “I was trained, gruelingly, for years to be a warrior. Does my strength really come as that much of a surprise?”

  “...According to the books I’ve been reading, yes.”

  Fenris raised an eyebrow and Anders raised his hand to still his tongue, “And yes, I know that these books were written by humans who are inclined to look down on elves but… But I’ve also been reading about how... Your lyrium may be enhancing your strength- That it may, in fact, be your sole source of it.”

  Silence met Anders’ statement as Fenris tried to formulate a reply. Finally he settled on, “That cannot possibly be true.”

  “Is it any stranger than the fact that you wield a sword almost as big as you are? That you can toss me over your shoulder like a sack of grain but I can still easily wrap my hand around your bicep? Well- maybe not _easily_ and I do have rather large hands, but…

  “Or your other abilities- You couldn’t rip people’s hearts of their chests anymore, or do that phasing thing, or-”

  “Do you _want_ me to keep my markings?” Fenris’ brow furrowed and he was unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. He knew, logically that Anders’ was trying to help him, but the second he had heard Anders’ tell him he could perform the procedure he had already made up his mind.

  “Andraste’s tits, absolutely _not_. But,” here Anders’ tone morphed from exasperated to concerned, “I won’t have you doing this without understanding the risks. Without understanding that, afterwards you might not be… Well, you won’t be the same man.”

  Anders moved forward to clasp Fenris’ hands again, but was unable to look at him as he began to speak, nervously licking his lips. “Of course, the biggest risk in such a… Procedure would be death,” he tried to keep his voice light, to at least keep it from breaking at just the thought. “Though with a healer as talented as I am I really don’t think we should be concerned. But it seems very possible that, even if all goes as it should you will not… You will not be the warrior you once were. And it is up to you to make that decision for yourself.”

  Looking up at him with those eyes Anders continued, “Please… Take some time to think this over. This isn’t something to be considered lightly- Besides, I need some time to assemble supplies anyway.”

  “I will,” Fenris said slowly, finally. All he could truly think of was removing the markings, of finally freeing himself from them, but he would do as Anders asked anyway.

  “And please, whatever you choose, know that I will support you. That I will…” Anders swallowed back his words, not wanting to overwhelm Fenris anymore today with an overwrought confession of love. That, he decided, could wait. “I will do whatever you wish.”

  Fenris thought that there had been something else there, something that the mage was trying to tell him, but apparently he was mistaken. Still, his mind was quickly consumed by other thoughts- Anders had given him a great deal to think about, and he was suddenly feeling both overwhelmed and tired.

  “I… Brought you food. But I think I should- I had some other appointments to keep today.” It was a lie, and not a very good one, but Anders let go of his hands anyway and stood, moving away from him.

  “Thank you-”

  “-and you are _not_ to give all of it away.”

  Both men stared at each other for a long moment until, almost at the same time, their looks dissolved in smiles and then they continued to look at each other.

  It was Fenris who finally looked away, gazing down at his feet and shuffling them awkwardly. Finally he spoke: “I know you will be busy, and with something for me no less, but will you… Later… Should I expect to see you at my mansion again?”

  Anders chuckled, finding it half-amusing and half-heart aching that Fenris still had to ask such things. Still, he _did_ have a habit of overworking himself and neglecting the other parts of his life, and so he supposed it was a fair question.

  “Yes, tomorrow night after Wicked Grace?”

  “That would be- Yes, that would be good.”

  He looked up at Anders, smiling softly and the mage returned it. In a few minutes he would leave, Anders knew, but for now he would have this picture of him, happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell prompts at me at laurpas.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason getting to the end of this chapter was like pulling teeth, but I think I'm happy with it anyway? I'm hoping to continue to develop Fenris and Anders relationship and the way it's changing while also dealing with the obvious issues of removing his lyrium.
> 
> I do also headcanon that, if not an alcoholic, Fenris uses alcohol a lot to deal with the pain of his markings (and, likely, his emotional pain as well.) I don't know how into that I'll get into the fic, but I'll update the tags and it'll at least be a thing.

  It was a good thing that Justice did not let him drink, Anders thought, for dragging Fenris home was a job that he could not have accomplished while intoxicated. It’d been a fairly normal night at the Hanged Man- Anders and Fenris had decided against mentioning the book they had found- And while Hawke and Varric and even Merril had each thrown them the occasional glance even they kept quiet about the matter, respecting Fenris’ privacy. 

  The others, of course, could have no idea. And so Fenris and Anders sat together, as was their way, Fenris trying not to groan every time he saw Anders make a terrible move or loaning him some coin when he ran out, early on in the game.

  Fenris also drank, as was his habit. It didn’t much bother anyone, except, perhaps, for Anders who knew that he did so to try and control the pain of his markings. 

  That night Fenris drank even more than usual- He always got drunk on Wicked Grace nights, but instead of stopping to savor the wine and whiskey he usually alternated (“I hate it, but the whiskey will get me inebriated much more quickly than wine could,”) he seemed to drown most of his glasses in a few swallows only to go up and get more. Occasionally the thought occurred to Anders to stop him or at least tell him to slow it down but he knew that, come morning, he would be there to cure the inevitable hangover and so supposed that there really wasn’t much he  _ ought  _ to do.

  That night played out like most other Wicked Grace nights: Anders lost,  _ a lot _ , Fenris lost to Isabela who was clearly cheating, Dog, cardshark that she was ultimately won, and Hawke watched them all fondly, a soft smile on their face. 

  By the time that they got up to leave Fenris was clearly very drunk and while a part of Anders internally sighed at it, another part was very appreciative of the suggestive looks that the elf was sending his way. 

  Unless Fenris significantly sobered up between the tavern and his mansion in Hightown Anders would have to regretfully decline, but he hadn’t given up all hope yet. Perhaps he could even try using his healing magic to try and sober him up a little...

  And so now they walked, one of Fenris’ arms slung around his waist as the warrior listed slightly to the side. Anders grunted when he tried pulling at him to make him stand up straighter, cursing about how  _ heavy  _ he was. 

  “You’re a good head shorter than me,” he said cheerily, not really expecting Fenris to respond, “And probably a few stone heavier than me.”

  “Mmm, you’re too skinny mage,” Fenris slurred back at him, though his tone was affectionate. “You did not give away that food, did you?”

  Briefly he thought of lying, though since merging with Justice that had become more and more difficult. Something about ‘truth’ and what was right or whatever.

  “Not… All of it.”  _ Most  _ of it, though really, as slim as he was, Anders didn’t have that much to maintain.

  “Ah…” Fenris shook his head, but where he might have argued or lectured Anders he chose to say nothing instead. A good idea, as both were in a good mood after their evening and an argument would have only spoiled it.

  “You care too much,” he finally said, the drunken burr to his voice somehow enhancing it, “Your compassion is admirable, but… But you must be careful not to burn yourself out.”

  Briefly Anders thought how unfair it was that he remained so eloquent while inebriated before responding. “Of course, I would not let that happen.” He wasn’t sure that Fenris understood how much he fought against that- How much Justice pushed him (or, the part of him that was Justice, or perhaps that part of Justice that was him- it was difficult, now more so than ever, to know which was which-) and how much he struggled to keep things for himself. To take the time to feed and care for himself. 

  But he also knew that Fenris, while more understanding than he had originally been, was still upset about Justice and so he decided not to speak of it. Not yet, anyway. 

  “Good,” Fenris muttered in return. “Good.”

  As they made their way from Lowtown and towards Fenris’ mansion they did not speak more, simply enjoying being in each other’s company. Things seemed to be easiest when they were like this, Fenris thought, leaning more heavily against Anders even though he did not really need to. The other man’s arm was warm and comforting around his shoulder and though he didn’t really smell good he did smell like Anders- and that was good enough. 

  When he blinked again, he must have been much drunker than he thought, they were climbing the stairs to his bedroom. Anders was looking a little wane himself and Fenris smile when he thought of pulling him back into bed with him, watching him finally rest for once.

  Once in his bedroom they each moved through the motions of removing their clothes, Fenris peeling his armor away and Anders shedding that terrible coat of his, one feather detaching itself and floating away to settle on the floor. They were left naked and while a part of Anders wanted to just stand there and appreciate the other man the other, very tired part of him, just wanted to crawl into bed.

  He did so, gently tugging Fenris along with him, until they both settled under the covers, facing each other. 

  Briefly Anders reached out, tracing along Fenris’ jaw where his markings did not reach, one of the few places where it truly felt safe to touch him. The other man drowsily flicked open his eyes, watching Anders, before his mouth curled up into a small smile. 

  “Anders,” he spoke, voice warm and low. He moved forward and pressed his lips against Anders, sighing when the other man opened his mouth and returned the kiss. 

  For a while they kissed, content to simply lie together and enjoy each other, until Fenris moved forward again, pressing his body against Anders’. The contact irritated slightly, especially as it touched so many of his brands, but the alcohol was helping and, just for once, Fenris wanted to enjoy himself regardless of the pain. 

  “Mmph, Anders,” he mumbled, tangling his hands in the other man’s hair and tugging it slightly, freeing it from the loose queue it had been set in, “I want…” he kissed him again, opened-mouthed now and panting slightly, the warm feeling of the alcohol in his belly transmuting into other things. 

  Anders groaned, resisting the urge for his hands to grope and squeeze. Fenris generally seemed to do well when he lightly trailed over his skin with his fingers or touched the space between the markings, but it was difficult sometimes to remain so controlled. Now, especially, when the elf was pressing himself fully against him and was grinding against his leg.

  “You’re drunk,” he replied, “You should sleep- Ah-” he was cut off when Fenris moved his mouth down to the base of his throat, sucking hard and then gently nibbling on his collarbone.

  “I feel good,” Fenris muttered, voice sulky, “And I want you.” 

  “As do I, believe me, it’s just-” Fenris thought about continuing despite Anders’ words, but instead pulled back, an unhappy look on his face. Though he knew it was unfair he could not help but feel hurt- The alcohol was pleasantly dimming the pain of his brands and, dammit, he wanted to have sex while that was still happening. 

  “You’re drunk sweetheart,” Anders lightly caressed the side of his face, eyes kind. Fenris could feel the mage’s cock, hard against his thigh, and yet still there was that look on his face. “I don’t…”

  “What,” Fenris asked, going for amused rather than bitter, “Worried about taking advantage of me?”

  Anders frowned and replied, “Ye- No, it’s just-” He sighed and looked away, for once seeming to have trouble with his words. “...Alcohol is no way to deal with pain.”

  Fenris bristled, and forget trying to be polite because suddenly he very much did not feel like that. Anders, in fact, could go straight to-

  “Sorry,” Anders was looking at him, eyes pinched and worried looking, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I don’t really- Maker knows you’ve earned it and I know you could- You could stop if you wished and- And it’s not like anything else we’ve tried has worked so-”

  It hung there, between them, in the space that had suddenly been created on the bed. Before they’d even became a couple, or a thing, or whatever they were, Anders had spent a great deal of time trying to figure out ways to help Fenris manage his pain. Poultices, potions, healing magic- And even things that were, decidedly, not traditional. None of it had worked, or at least not permanently, and Fenris knew that Anders lived with the guilt, and frustration, of not being able to help him. 

  Because of, or perhaps despite this, Fenris refused to apologize for his drinking, though he strongly suspected that Anders wanted him to. Let  _ the mage  _ live in nearly constant pain and see how he dealt with it.

  Finally he sighed and murmured, “Of course, I know you do not.”

  Both men were silent then, and the room would have been as well were it not for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Every so often they looked at each other and the air hung heavy, neither man sure what to say, or if there even was something to say.

  “Make love to me. Please.” It was Anders who finally broke the silence and spoke, gazing at Fenris with an expression that was at once tentative and guilty looking. It wouldn’t have been the first time they had used sex to try and resolve their differences, but he’d never called it that before. Fenris’ chest felt a little strange, suddenly, but it was not entirely unpleasant. 

  “Do you wish for me to? Honestly?” He trusted Anders to be truthful to him, at least. Whether this was because of who he was or because of his… Spirit, he did not know. He suspected what it was, but preferred not to think too heavily on it.

  “Yes,” Anders, replied, unconsciously running his tongue over his bottom lip and wetting it. Fenris found he could not tear his eyes away. “I do. Honestly.”

  It was all the prompting Fenris needed to move, and suddenly he was back where he had been again, pressing against Anders and kissing him hungrily. Anders groaned though he kept his hands on the untouched parts of Fenris’ body, struggling not to let them roam. It’d gotten easier, or, perhaps, he’d simply gotten used to it. 

  Fenris had no such misgivings, letting his mouth and hands wander over the mage’s body, sucking and kissing where he pleased. Beneath him Anders moaned, his voice growing higher and less controlled as Fenris nipped and licked his way lower. 

  At least, Anders thought to himself, he could bury his hands in Fenris’ hair this way and not worry overly much about hurting him. 

  Fenris kissed low on Anders’ stomach, having to hide a smile when he felt the muscle there twitch and Anders whine, only to move on to his thighs, peppering kisses there and decidedly ignoring the erection that lay heavy and swollen looking against Anders’ thigh. 

  “Fenris,” Anders muttered, “You bastard,” as Fenris moved even lower down to shower his lover’s knee with affection and opened mouth kisses. 

  “That was unkind,” he replied, trying not to chuckle as Anders squirmed again, “Care to try again?”

  He heard a huff, and then: “Please?”

  “My apologies, I heard something very quiet just now but I could not quite catch it-”

  “You-” Fenris could almost hear the frown in his partner’s voice and had to keep himself from chuckling. Anders was often the more playful of the two of them, but Fenris was feeling good that night and it brought out the softer parts of him. 

  “Please,” Anders whimpered as Fenris moved up again, dragging his tongue over the mage’s hip bone. “ _ Please _ ,”

  “Please? Please what?” Fenris was nuzzling against his hip now, letting his teeth graze against it occasionally.

  “You impossible- Ugh- Please, pretty please Fenris will you suck my cock?”

  This time he did laugh, a low, dark sound that only served to rile Anders up more. And then suddenly Fenris wrapped his lips around the head of Anders’ cock, moving down and swallowing him. The mage almost vaulted off the bed, letting out a groan as he was overwhelmed by the sensation. Fenris’ mouth was hot and wet around him and the pressure was almost unbearable as he continued, tongue swirling around his head and sucking. 

  “Ah… Fen,” Anders’ voice was shaky as Fenris continued and he fisted his hands to try and keep himself under control. “I…” He moaned again and swallowed heavily. “ _ Please _ .” 

  Fenris seemed to take mercy on him this time, moving from between Anders’ legs and smirking up at him. In the next instant, however, the look melded into something far more affectionate and Anders had to carefully grasp him and pull him back up. 

  “Okay?” Anders whispered.

  “Okay,” Fenris confirmed. His intoxication still made Anders uneasy, but finally he nodded.

  Fenris parted his legs, settling between them as Anders reach for the little vial of oil they kept by the bed. Though he could have easily used a grease spell he knew that it would pull unpleasantly at the lyrium in Fenris’ markings, causing him pain, and so avoided using magic around him whenever he could. He tossed it to the other man who, even drunk, caught it easily and unstoppered it.

  Anders sighed and leaned back, watching with half-lidded eyes as Fenris poured some of the oil onto his fingers before pressing the slick digits into him. For a few minutes he thrust into him, one finger and then two, just until Anders was considering starting to beg again. 

  And then Fenris was filling him, hands grasping Anders’ hips as he began to thrust into him. He grunted, his fingers digging into Ander’s pale skin as he drew back and then moved forward again. Beneath him Anders was panting, hard, his hands twisted in the sheets of the bed. He groaned as Fenris moved again, turning his head to the side as he gasped for breath. 

  “Touch me,” Fenris commanded, grasping at one of Anders’ balled up fists and dragging it up to rest on his chest. It had been something of an unstated rule that they not- His pain was made that much worse by people touching him directly but dammit he wanted to, and between the numbing effects of the alcohol and his arousal he would have nothing less.

  “Yes,” Anders replied, moving his other hand over his lover’s arms, squeezing the jut of a hip bone as Fenris rocked into him again. “Please,” he begged, “Closer.”

  Fenris obliged him, shifting the positions of their bodies so that he could lie against the mage almost completely as he fucked into him. They had never done this before, always trying so hard to be careful, and for a brief moment he had an idea of what it might be like if they had no barriers between them, not his markings and not his pain. 

  Anders pressed up against Fenris, lost and now careless. His hands roamed the elf’s body freely, trying to press him closer, to be as close to him as he could, his legs wrapping around Fenris’ hips as he thrust back against him, urging him on. Between their bodies his cock still lay, the friction of them moving together enough to tease but not enough for him to come, yet. 

  “Please,” he begged, not sure what he was actually asking for, only that he wanted more of this, more of Fenris peppering kisses against neck and shoulder, of holding onto him so tightly, more of _ him _ .

  Anders opened his eyes then, having to blink to focus, and saw Fenris, staring down at him, eyes intent, mouth turned downward in concentration as he thrust against him,  _ watching  _ him.

  It all became too much, suddenly, and though he did not want to he reflexively closed his eyes, groaning as the pleasure spiraled higher and he came, his hands digging into Fenris’ arms, only for him to open his eyes and in a blinding moment of clarity think,  _ I love you _ .

  He was lucky that Fenris had not finished yet, and that he was furiously working to get there- Otherwise he might have actually said that words aloud. Instead, he kissed the elf, passionately, before moving to mouth at the side of his face, nipping at his earlobe, doing whatever he could to help his partner reach the same blinding climax he just had. 

  Finally he felt Fenris’ pace stutter, becoming erratic, the way it always did as he was about to come. Without thinking Anders moved forward again, biting down down on his ear, only to hear Fenris curse and then shout as he came, hard.

  For a few moments there was just the sound of the fire and them breathing together, both trying to catch their breaths. They were still pressed together, both of their skin sticky with sweat and oil and semen and while Fenris knew it would only grow more uncomfortable, he could not bring himself to pull away. 

  “I want it to always be like this,” he whispered, not looking at the mage, “So… Close to you.” He was usually careful with his words, but they failed him now as he tried to describe what he was feeling, what he wanted. 

  Closing his eyes he finally pulled out of Anders with a groan before moving to collapse on the bed and roll away from him. Briefly he reached out and grasped the other man’s hand, squeezing it. Anders had not responded to his words and though it stung he accepted it. Besides, he was still drowsy from alcohol and his climax, and if allowed he knew he knew he would fall into a deep sleep. 

  Beside him he felt Anders move and get up. He wanted to beg him to come back, to stay the night, and was relieved when he felt the cool slide of a damp cloth over his abdomen. The man had not been intending to leave at all- Merely to wash them. 

  “We are disgusting, are we not?” He asked, his voice full of drowsy humor. 

  “Why, not at all. I think we are rather attractive actually, all tousled and smelling like sex.”

  “Mm, I suppose,” Fenris replied. He managed not to flinch or twitch as Anders moved the cloth up, though it was now beginning to border on uncomfortable. Instead he pushed the mage’s hand away and said, “Sleep, we will worry about it in the morning.”

  He closed his eyes, not wanting an argument and Anders was left sitting next to him on the bed, watching him. He looked… Peaceful. Sometimes when he was asleep his face would scrunch up, as if, even in sleep he could not escape the pain that so dogged him. (That was, when the elf managed to fall asleep- The ache from his markings sometimes prevented that as well.)

  Carefully Anders leaned forward, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face. Though he ought to go to sleep as well, or at least do something productive, all he could do was sit and watch the other man, ruminating. On their past, and, for it would be coming quickly, their future.


End file.
